pursuit | mountains in the garden
You took away the fear that I once held near. Relentlessly pursuing me so that I may hear.
Death once rang so loudly. It surrounded me.
My death may not have looked like your death. But its end is the same.
That was my tunnel; A vision so obscured and blurred by the fallacies this life portrays.
I believed it. And it hurt me. To be in that dark, and yet un-shaded place.
So stuck back in the dirt, not seeing color for what seemed like so long. I forgot what it looked like.
I forgot the smells, the tastes, the beat my heart skipped when…
I forgot life.
I knew death.
See, destruction breeds more destruction, and oh was I producing.
The daily cries and longing, reaching for what I couldn’t see, to find, pouring out another glass of my empty, wallowing in the disgrace of guilt and shame and loneliness, tripping on that puddle of grace in the desert, falling and staying down, getting up and falling and staying down and getting up and falling and staying down and oh, look, another puddle, and I have nothing left in me but, to drink.
So I drink.
And I drink.
And even when I make my bed in hell, you are there.
You took away the fear that I once held near.
Relentlessly pursuing me so that I may hear, You.
It was you.
It was you keeping the breath in my lungs.
It was you manually causing my heart to beat when I couldn’t on my own.
It was you keeping me alive in the famine, delivering me from the very death I had become so acquainted with. It was you. It is you.
The source of my strength and the strength of my life,
My quenched but still desperate thirst.
The love of my soul. The One who considers all that I do.
The speaker to my heart.
You took away the fear that I once held near.
Relentlessly pursuing me so that I may hear,
Your song for me. The song of love. The song of freedom. The song of joy. The song of life.
Life.
I forgot what that was once. Something else had a hold of me. Yet, your eye was always on me,
Relentlessly pursuing me,
Because you are mine,
And I am yours,
And I am alive.
